


Kidnapped

by theSapphireSky



Series: The Detective and the Pathologist [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: "Grumpy" Kidnapper, "Smelly" Kidnapper, Bofoonish Kidnappers, F/M, Fluff, Kidnapping, and "Sir Burps-a-lot", silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7954843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theSapphireSky/pseuds/theSapphireSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kidnapped and waiting rescue, Sherlock tries to deduce why Molly is angry with him, assisted by their kidnappers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kidnapped

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in the chair. ‘Not even a tiny hint?’

Behind him, Molly gave an indignant sniff.

‘Molly,’ he sighed, bordering on whinging. ‘Please.’

‘Oh, good God!’ One of the men, dubbed by Sherlock as “Smelly” for obvious, unpleasant reasons, at the nearby table slammed his hand down and glowered at them. ‘Don’t make me gag you!’

Sherlock ignored the threat and wiggled his bound hands until they brushed against Molly’s. ‘Please, Molly. Tell me why you’re angry with me.’ Damn the kidnappers for putting them back to back!

‘You’re the genius detective, _you_ figure it out!’ She snapped.

All three kidnappers groaned with Sherlock.

‘Oh, that is the rottenest!’ “Grumpy” declared hotly and threw his cards down. ‘Carla uses that on me every time I screw up, biggest cop-out in the world of women!’

“Sir Burps-a-lot” nodded emphatically, before letting out a huge belch. ‘S’like women ‘spect us to be so perfect and then gets angry wit’ us when we ain’t!’

Sherlock, despite being repulsed by the amateur criminals, found himself nodding and agreeing. ‘Exactly!’ Unaware of how deeply he was digging his already _very_ deep hole, he blundered on. ‘Everything was fine this morning; we had a bit of a lie-in, then shared a _very_ pleasant shower…’

The kidnappers chuckled wickedly and one had the audacity to wink at Molly.

‘...after which, we went about our usual day. She made breakfast, waffles and sausage with melons and berries…’

The men licked their lips at the description.

‘...I took a case and then before I knew it, everything went to Hell in a handbasket!’

The men shook their heads in sympathy, throwing out a ‘been there, mate’ somewhere in the midst.

Behind Sherlock, Molly huffed indignantly.

‘So, tell me gentleman,’ Sherlock looked upon his fellow men, ‘how do I get out of this?’

“Grumpy” snorted and took a swig of beer. ‘Ain’t no way out of it, mate. You just gotta ride it through until she either tells ya and you can get to grovelling or she lets it go.’

Considering how angry and hurt Molly was, Sherlock estimated the likelihood of her letting whatever this was go to be less than 1%.

Well, he still had seven minutes before Lestrade arrived to arrest the kidnappers and free him and Molly. Plenty of time to wear down her resilience.

‘Molly, love,’ he purred, letting his deep voice rumble in the dank room. ‘Please, tell me what I did wrong, so I can make it up to you.’

The kidnappers watched in rapt attention as Molly shook her head, her ponytail swinging. Sherlock felt the movement and rolled his eyes. This might be harder than he thought.

‘Come on, luv, give your lad a teeny hint,’ “Smelly” encouraged. ‘He’s tryin’ to do right by ya.’

‘Was it the experiment on Toby?’

Molly whipped her head to the side. ‘ _What experiment on Toby?’_

Rapidly backtracking, Sherlock forced a laugh. ‘No experiment! J-just wanted to make sure you were actually listening to me.’

She hummed noncommittally. At least all the organic green dye had washed out of the cat’s fur, so no evidence could be linked back to him.

He tried again. ‘Did you run into Janine?’

Molly huffed and struggled against the bonds briefly.

‘Ex-girlfriend?’ “Sir Burps-a-lot” leaned forward, his elbows on the table. ‘Crazies, the lot of ‘em! But it ain’t his fault, luv. Unless he’s been seeing her on the sly…’ He looked at Sherlock with a narrowed glare.

‘Of course not!’ Sherlock bit out. ‘And she can hardly be considered an ‘ex-girlfriend’, as I was simply using her to-’

A chorus of indignant shouts came from the table.

‘You don’t use women, you slime-ball!’ “Smelly” waved his bottle threateningly at Sherlock. ‘And you certainly don’t admit it to ya current lady-luv!’

‘It’s not-, oh, forget it,’ Sherlock waved off their scoldings. He had three minutes left and was no closer to an answer than when they’d been taken.

‘Molly, please,’ he said tiredly. ‘Please tell me what I did wrong.’

Twenty-seconds of heart-pounding silence passed before Molly said through clenched teeth,‘What’s the date, Sherlock?’

‘October 27th,’ he replied automatically, bringing up the calendar in his Mind Palace. There was an expectant silence following and he furrowed his brow. Was she expecting another date?

‘And what occurred on October 27th exactly one year ago?’ She prompted with an icy tone.

Immediately, all three kidnappers grimaced with deep groans.

‘Oh, mate, you’re completely screwed!’ “Smelly” said in sympathy.

‘Brought this on yourself,’ “Grumpy” grumbled.

“Sir Burps-a-lot” simply shook his head.

‘What? What happened today?’ Sherlock looked at them in complete befuddlement. How could three strangers know the importance of a date between himself and his significant other and yet he have no idea?!

‘Think about it, Sherlock,’ Molly replied in a dangerously sweet voice. ‘One year ago today, what were we doing?’

Sherlock frowned in thought and rewound his memories to 365 days previous. He’d solved a case the day before and had promptly collapsed in bed, exhausted. He’d woken up alone and for the first time, it had felt empty and wrong. So he’d gone to the one place he always felt alive and whole, despite being surrounded by death: the morgue. With Molly. He’d swept in, found her just finishing up her shift, and announced he was taking her to dinner. It was on the walk there, that he made the connection, that he loved her. And he wasn’t going to waste any time. Over dinner, he’d wooed her and, despite her initial doubts, convinced her of his sincerity and his love.

‘Oh, god,’ he murmured.

‘And there it is,’ Molly grumbled.

‘I forgot our anniversary,’ he said in complete astonishment. ‘How could I have forgotten? It’s inconceivable! It’s supposed to be marked in my mind on the calendar, I set warnings and alarms for the weeks leading up to it! How could I have forgotten?!’

‘Sherlock, look, it’s done now,’ Molly tried to calm him down, but he kept on, his panic growing.

‘I knew I’d cock this up, but I thought I’d last longer than a year! Oh, _god_ ,’ he shouted. ‘How do you put up with me? I’m selfish and forgetful, I’ve messed up so many times, like the time I forgot to meet you for dinner, or when I took a case right in the middle of sex-’

‘Dude!’ One of the kidnappers, Sherlock didn’t care by now which one, shouted.

‘-or when I dyed your cat green-’

‘You what?!’ Molly shrieked.

‘I think that’ll be enough, Sherlock,’ a familiar voice spoke from the doorway. All three kidnappers turned in surprise and before they could even stand, Lestrade and his men had them cuffed and under arrest. As they were led outside to the waiting cop cars, Lestrade strolled over to the bound couple and smirked. ‘I was planning to let you go, but if there’s more you need to get off your chest, Sherlock…’

‘Untie us, Gustavo,’ Sherlock snapped, flushing red in embarrassment. Lestrade cut the ties around their legs and hands and helped Molly to her feet. She thanked him with a smile.

‘Mycroft has a car outside to take you home when you’re ready,’ Lestrade said. ‘I’ll get your statements in the morning.’ With that, he left the room, leaving Molly and Sherlock alone.

Rubbing the feeling back into her wrists, Molly looked over at Sherlock. His pale face was uncommonly red and he was purposefully avoiding her gaze.

‘You think I put up with you?’ She asked softly.

Sherlock cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

Heart aching, Molly walked over and stood directly in front of him, so he had no choice but to look at her. Cupping his cheeks, she glared at him fiercely. ‘You complete moron.’

His mouth gaped open in surprise, but before he could say anything, she yanked his face down and crashed her lips to his. He eagerly wrapped his arms around her and sank into the passion of her kiss.

‘If you ever think for one moment that I _put up with you_ , I’ll-I’ll…!’ Molly trailed off angrily, when they’d broken apart to breathe. She took a deep breath and clutched the lapels of his jacket, shaking him slightly. ‘I was angry with you, yes, but I still love you. I always will. Every part of you, even when you’re the most infuriating man on the Earth!’

Sherlock chuckled softly and braced his forehead against hers. ‘And I love you, even when you’re the most infuriating woman on the Earth!’

Punching his chest lightly, Molly smiled. ‘Fair enough.’

‘Now, we have exactly three hours remaining of our anniversary,’ Sherlock declared and slipped her arm through his, leading her to the door. ‘I can think of seven different ways to make this up to you in that time, once we get back to Baker Street.’

‘Only seven?’ Molly teased, with a wicked gleam in her eye. ‘I can think of at least one more.’

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in question.

Pulling her arm from his slowly, she stepped away. ‘You forget that Mycroft has sent a car.’

Giggling, Molly ran for the door, an eager Sherlock on her heels.


End file.
